


my unfinished symphony

by racooninnit



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: ANGRY TUBBO MAKES ME HAPPY, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry Toby Smith | Tubbo, Angry TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Arguing, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Love, Dysfunctional Family, Heavy Angst, Insane TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Insane Wilbur Soot, Older Sibling Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sad TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Someone give this poor kid a hug, THIS IS SO SWAG, TommyInnit Has PTSD (Video Blogging RPF), Villain Tommyinnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, Wilbur Soot is Floris | Fundy's Parent, YEAAAAAAAAH BABY, YO I FOUND THE TAG, Younger Sibling TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), hes dead but actually dead, lots of crying actually, philza is a bad dad here lol, there is no ghostbur, this is gonna be a wild ride, tommyinnit cries, wilbur isn’t in the character tags cause like, yeah - Freeform, yeah thats right
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:20:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28583391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/racooninnit/pseuds/racooninnit
Summary: THIS WORK IS NO LONGER BEING UPDATED, PLEASE CHECK THE FOURTH CHAPTER
Relationships: Floris | Fundy & TommyInnit, Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Tubbo & Tommyinnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 26
Kudos: 323





	1. wilbur is dead.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He didn’t expect Wilbur’s death to hurt him like this. Wilbur was nothing short of abusive after they went into hiding at Pogtopia. Tommy can’t think of a day where Wilbur hadn’t hurt him in some way. So why did he miss him?

_Wilbur is dead._

_Wilbur is dead._

_Wilbur is dead and he isn’t coming back._

_Wilbur. Is. Dead._

The words rattle around his head like a marble in a glass bottle. It’s been months since Wilbur died. Months since he had to deal with the insanity that was his brother’s final weeks. Months since Tommy’s felt like a person. _~~Months since Techno told him to die like a hero and sent withers after him. Months since his father killed Wilbur.~~_

He didn’t expect Wilbur’s death to hurt him like this. Wilbur was nothing short of abusive after they went into hiding at Pogtopia. Tommy can’t think of a day where Wilbur hadn’t hurt him in some way. So why did he miss him? Why did he yearn to see that familiar trenchcoat and beanie? Why did he feel so desperate to clutch onto any semblance of him? Why did he want him back? It’s not like he _wants_ to be abused again, so why does he miss him _so fucking much?_

Tommy turns over, pressing his face into the cold comfort of his pillow. He ignores the way a wet spot quickly forms below his eyes. He doesn’t want to think about this and yet he finds himself here so often. Wishing he could have Wilbur back. Wishing Wilbur would pet his hair and sing to him until he fell asleep. Wishing Wilbur would play him a new song he wrote on his guitar. Wishing to bury his face into the familiar yellow fabric of Wilbur’s favorite sweater while he cries his eyes out.

But wishing has never gotten him anything. That’s something he’s learned time and time again. A message that’s beat his hopes into the ground. 

He hides his face further into his pillow in spite of the fact that it makes it harder to breathe. He doesn’t want to face the world. Doesn’t want to look over and see that Wilbur isn’t there. _~~Doesn’t want to see any more hallucinations of him.~~_

But he can’t stay like this forever. He knows it, but it doesn’t help any. 

He only picks his head up from the pillow when snot starts dripping onto it and the texture feels gross and slimy against his skin. He sits up slowly, bringing a hand to wipe the tears away from his eyes as he sniffles. He looks over at the chair next to his bed. The chair Wilbur used to sit in. Two items are set on it.

Wilbur’s old trenchcoat from Pogtopia, and Wilbur’s favorite yellow sweater. The sweater is set on top of the trenchcoat because, in spite of the number of times Tommy washed it, Wilbur’s blood never fully came out. _~~He can’t look at it without feeling sick.~~_

He sits and stares at the clothing for a long while. Watches it as if someone will suddenly pick up and then he’ll look over and it’ll be Wilbur, smiling at him and telling him he’s okay because, “I’m here now Toms, you’re okay.” But it doesn’t happen.

Instead, Tommy slowly gets out of bed, standing in front of the chair. His hands are trembling. Carefully, so carefully, he picks up the yellow sweater, unfolding it as gently as he can before slipping it over his head. It’s too big on him, his hands are swallowed by the sleeves. A shuddery breath runs through him. A memory bubbles to the surface of his mind, and for once, he lets it happen.

 _Wilbur’s hands cup his face, gently tilting his head so they make eye contact. There are tears in Tommy’s eyes. Wilbur has a smile that’s far sweeter than Tommy could ever deserve._

_“I-I know things have been… hard, with the war and everything, but I need you to remember this for me, okay?” Tommy nods. Wilbur takes a deep breath._

_“This country was built for you and Fundy. It’s always been for you two, it’ll always be for you two. This symphony, I’m writing it for you two and you two alone. You two are my pride and joy, Tommy. And I know I don’t say this enough, but **I love you, and I’m proud of you.** You’re my baby brother. I want to give you the world. I want you to know just how much I love you. I’ll shout it from the fucking rooftops if I have to.” Tommy gives a watery chuckle, tears slipping down his face. Wilbur wipes his tears away and continues speaking._

_“There’s nothing you could ever do to make me stop loving you. You will **always** be my Toms.”_

_“A-And you’ll always be my Wilby.” The words leave Tommy as a sob, but Wilbur just smiles at him. They’re both crying now. Wilbur pulls Tommy into his chest, a gentle hand resting on the back of his head and burying itself in soft blonde curls. It only makes Tommy cry harder. He has Wilbur’s sweater held tightly in his balled-up fists, clinging to his older brother like a lifeline._

_Wilbur presses a kiss to the crown of Tommy’s head, resting his head on top of the younger’s._

_“I love you, Tommy.”_

_“I-I love you too, Wilbur.”_

Tommy clutches the hem of the sweater in his hands. He looks at the trenchcoat sitting on the chair in front of him. _~~He can see part of the hole from where Wilbur got stabbed. He can see Wilbur’s blood on it.~~_

He picks it up with the same careful hands he used to grab the sweater, slowly slipping the sleeves onto his arms. It, like the sweater, is far too big on him. The sleeves also pass his hands, and it takes multiple attempts for him to get them bunched up enough that they stay on his wrists.

He looks over at the guitar that’s propped up against his wall. The polaroids taped up next to it. He thinks of the memories in those polaroids. _~~Memories of a better time. Memories of when Wilbur was alive. Memories of when it was just him and Wilbur and Fundy against the world. Memories from before the election, before Pogtopia, before the Dream SMP.~~_

Tommy looks at his mirror and sees himself in the coat. Faintly, he hears Wilbur’s words.

_“Tommy, are we the bad guys?”_

_“I say if we can’t have Manburg then NO ONE, **NO ONE** CAN HAVE MANBURG!”_

_“L’Manburg, my unfinished symphony!”_

He clenches his fist, gaze on the ground as hot tears rush to his eyes.

“Don’t worry Wilbur. I’ll finish your symphony.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SYMBOLISM YEAH


	2. small conversation, big worries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That sickly sweet smile stays on Tommy’s face all the same, grinning proudly at Fundy. Fundy is astonished by the admission, a flurry of thought swirling through his mind as he tries to make sense of what Tommy just told him. He wants to _blow up L’Manburg?_

Everybody noticed the way Tommy’s attitude changed after Wilbur’s death. It wasn’t hard to notice, not with a shift so dramatic.

Tommy went from a loud, excitable kid, to a skittish shell of himself. For a month after Wilbur died, he’d refused to leave his room. A lot of people attempted to coax him out, but it was all futile. Nobody else faced Wilbur’s final weeks in the way he did. Nobody else was consistently at Wilbur’s mercy. Nobody else feared him quite the way Tommy did. And because of that, they failed to connect with him.

He only bothered leaving for Fundy, because even if Fundy would never understand exactly how he felt, he knew Fundy cared. He knew Fundy was hurt by Wilbur’s death in a way similar to how Tommy felt. They’d never fully understand each other, but Tommy knew it was the closest he was going to get. So when Fundy knocked on his door for what could’ve been the twelfth time in the month (he attempted to check up on Tommy every other day, a constant Tommy appreciated) Tommy opened the door.

They cried to each other that night. Cried about all of their problems, cried about every little moment with Wilbur that they missed. Mourned the man who raised them. But not what he was in the end. **Never** what he was in the end.

It brought him closer with Fundy, the man had always been an older brother figure to him, but that only solidified it for him. He can trust Fundy, Fundy will be there for him. There’s no question about it.

However, the newfound strength in his bond with Fundy didn’t magically fix all the turmoil he has surrounding Wilbur’s death. No, far from it. He was still so… different. Partially the effect of Wilbur’s abuse, partially the effect of his death. He used to be boisterous and stubborn, never putting much thought into his actions before making them. But now he’s quiet and anxious. Everything he does, everything he says, needs to be thought over carefully.

He used to sprint down the streets of L’Manburg, shouting at people he saw on the sides. Now he walks with his head titled down, nervous, and tired, and clearly trying to hide himself away. There’s no more energy from him, fire long extinguished by a man he trusted more than anything. Only ashes remain, and they stopped smoldering a long time ago.

He never speaks out of turn. If anybody moves too quickly near him or raises their voice at him he flinches and cowers. He can’t handle aggression for weeks after he starts interacting with the other citizens of L’Manburg. He’d gotten so used to treading on eggshells around Wilbur that the slightest things sent him into a panic.

Of course, these behaviors did slowly mellow out over time. It took a lot of long, tearful conversations, and even more reassurances, but Tommy slowly learned to drop some of his habits. Or at least, partially. They didn’t vanish entirely, and they probably never would. Not when Tommy still wakes up screaming because of nightmares, Wilbur’s words haunting his mind. There are still scars littered across his body, scars he’ll trace his fingers over and wonder where everything went wrong. And he still can't look at a trenchcoat without devolving into sobs.

So when Tommy showed up wearing Wilbur’s old trenchcoat it immediately brought concern out of everybody around him. It’s common knowledge that he hates the thing, even if he’s kept it, so seeing him wearing it is so _jarring_. Unsurprisingly, the first person to ask about it is Fundy.

“Hey, Tommy?” He started carefully, and the boy in question looks over at him.

“Yeah, Fundy?” Tommy hums, giving a smile to Fundy that doesn’t sit quite right with him. Fundy takes a deep breath as he prepares himself for the question he’s about to ask.

“Why are you wearing Wilbur’s old trenchcoat?” Tommy pauses. And then his smile widens, and the look he gives Fundy makes his heart sink. It’s familiar.

“Why wouldn’t I?” The blonde tilts his head in a manner reminiscent of a confused animal.

“I just- I thought you don’t like it? I know you kept it because it reminds you of… _him_ , but you’ve always told me that it scares you.” Tommy looks away for a moment, letting out a small giggle that quickly blown laughter. It only serves to make Fundy more uncomfortable.

“Oh! Yeah, I was, but I got over that!” And that makes no sense. Just a week ago Tommy was telling Fundy about how he still couldn’t look at the coat without panicking. So why was he suddenly okay with it?

“But, why are you wearing it?”

“Cause I wanna be like Wilbur!” The sickly sweet smile Tommy gives does nothing to take away from the absolute _horror_ that Fundy feels at the statement.

“T-Tommy, buddy, what exactly do you mean by that?” 

“Well, isn’t it kinda obvious?” Fundy shakes his head hesitantly. “I wanna blow up L’Manburg!”

That sickly sweet smile stays on Tommy’s face all the same, grinning proudly at Fundy. Fundy is astonished by the admission, a flurry of thought swirling through his mind as he tries to make sense of what Tommy just told him. He wants to _blow up L’Manburg_? What could’ve gotten him to this line of thinking? And why is he so casual about it?

He thinks to himself for a few minutes, but the silence is enough to make the smile leave Tommy’s face. When Fundy notices, he makes the decision to play along, at least for the moment. He doesn’t know what’s got Tommy saying this, but if it’s anything bad like he thinks it is, it’s best to tread lightly. “Oh, yeah, of course! I-I don’t know why I didn’t think of that sooner!”

He’s very obviously lying, and he gives a nervous chuckle, but it seems to satisfy Tommy because the smile returns to his face.

The interaction leaves Fundy shaken for the rest of the day. He can’t stop thinking about it, worried as to what this could mean for the future. Is Tommy serious? Does he actually want to blow up L’Manburg as Wilbur had attempted before? Or is it some sort of joke in poor taste, a sad attempt at dealing with his trauma in one of the few ways he knows how?

It sure didn’t seem like much of a joke. Fundy tries to brush off that thought. He wants to believe that it’s a joke, that Tommy didn’t really mean it and he just wanted to freak Fundy out. But there was something so familiar about the way he smiled, the slight unhinged look in his eyes as he’d spoken. _Like Wilbur_ , his mind supplies, and he quickly shuts down the thought. **No**. There’s no way Tommy was serious, it had to have been a joke. There’s nothing else it could’ve been.

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> second chapter pog! tommy's already wearing the mental illness trenchcoat guys i don't think this is looking too good


	3. fool me twice, shame on me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You supplied someone with TNT before. I was hoping you might be able to do it again.”

Tommy groans in annoyance, arms crossing over his chest as he stews in his agitation. It’s officially ten minutes past the time Dream was supposed to show up, and Tommy is worrying he isn’t going to show at all. He tilts his head back and looks up at the sky for a moment, taking a deep breath and tempting to calm himself. Being pissy when he speaks to Dream certainly isn’t going to help, especially with what he’s about to ask for.

And, almost on cue, he hears a man clearing his throat, looking over to see a familiar masked man step past the treeline. Tommy looks over at Dream, huffs, and opens his mouth to say something, but Dream beats him to it. “Care to tell me why you asked to meet in the middle of the night?”

Tommy glares at the porcelain mask. “I was gonna say that before you cut me off, Asshole.”

“If you want me to hear you out you better cut to the chase Tommy. I didn’t come out here for a child to bitch at me.”

“I am _not_ a child!”

“Whatever you say.” The blonde scowls and crosses his arms over his chest, glaring at Dream. The man seems more amused than anything else. “Now can you please tell me the purpose of this whole thing?”

“Fine, fine. I’ll get to the point.” Tommy’s words leave him in a huff, a frown still present on his face. There’s a beat of silence. “I want to blow up L’Manburg.”

His words are soft, and yet they might just be the loudest thing Dream’s ever heard. It’s a shocking admission for sure, but not the first time he’s heard it. “And what does this have to do with me?”

“You supplied Wilbur with TNT before. I was hoping you might be able to do it again.” The response is surprisingly blunt. It wasn’t often that Tommy spoke Wilbur’s name when referring to him during Pogtopia, the boy firmly expressed that that man and his Wilbur are **not** one in the same. But that doesn’t concern Dream, he’s far more interested in the way this conversation is developing.

“So what you’re saying is you want me to give you enough TNT to destroy L’Manburg?” Tommy nods.

“I want to do it for good this time.”

Well. This is shaping up to be far more interesting than Dream thought it would be.

“What’s in it for me?”

“Anything you want. I don’t care what happens to me, I just want to get rid of this place.” A shocked expression melds itself onto Dreams face. He certainly wasn’t expecting an offer like that. He had thought Tommy would have some sort of item or ludicrous trade to offer, he didn’t think he’d offer _anything_. He isn’t even sure what he’d want from Tommy. It wasn’t like the TNT was hard to make, creepers were easy to kill, and crafting TNT barely took up any of his time. An offer like this is worth far more than the stacks of TNT he’d be giving.

“You’ll owe me a favor,” now it’s Tommy’s turn to be shocked, but Dream keeps talking, “but before I give you anything I wanna know one thing. Why do you want to do it?”

“It’s for Wilbur,” Tommy doesn’t look at Dream as he speaks, eyes up on the stars again, but Dream hears him all the same. The answer doesn’t surprise him. He’s been keeping tabs on Tommy, he’s noticed the boy’s erratic change in behavior. He sees the trenchcoat the boy wears.

He’s read this story, witnessed the cautionary tale in months previous. Yet here’s Tommy, writing the same book. Dream smirks to himself. “Of course. You’ve always wanted to be like your big brother. Didn’t think you’d go crazy like him too” His tone drips with mockery, and Tommy glares at him.

“ _Don’t_ talk about him like that.” Dream shrugs, and even with the mask on his face, Tommy knows the man is smirking.

“I can give the TNT to you in a couple days. I’ll tell you when I have it and we’ll meet here again at the same time.” 

Tommy nods, and then that’s the end of their interaction. Dream thinks about it as he crafts the TNT. It truly is interesting to him that Tommy’s following in Wilbur’s footsteps this way. Becoming the very thing he was horrified of. It’s profoundly ironic.

He can’t wait to watch this play out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dream's here wow this is so swag. tommy has effectively taken the train to the destroying-the-nation-station


	4. IMPORTANT AHA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ahaha oopsie

so i haven't had the motivation to work on this fic for a while, because i really don't do well updating multi-chapter fics. i really don't want to abandon this idea, so i've decided i'm going to revamp this and make it a big oneshot instead! it may be shorter than i originally intended for it to be because of this, but i'd prefer to have a fic i like over anything else. i don't know when i'm going to finish the oneshot, but i plan on doing it eventually. i just often get swept up in other ideas and loose interest in old ones, which is really a shame because i like this idea a lot.

i'll be doing this with another one of my multi-chapter fics as well, "they found their body but not their eyes" so you'll probably see this same update on there as well.

when i finish this fic i'll be deleting the original and posting the new, full thing as a oneshot, but i'll leave this up until i finish the oneshot anyways.

**Author's Note:**

> twt is @ stiniky, if you wanna see me scream and cry about dsmp there too


End file.
